


(Almost) Time to Save the World

by J (j_writes)



Category: Battle Scars (Comics), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'Jerking it on your Captain America bedsheets doesn't count, Cheese,'" he mimicked.  "'Just because he died a virgin doesn't mean you have to.'  I don't know why I'm still friends with you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Almost) Time to Save the World

**Author's Note:**

> takes place shortly following [Battle Scars](http://www.comixology.com/Battle-Scars/comics-series/6943). contains plot spoilers.

"So," Phil said, closing the door to Marcus's bunk behind him. "Fury. I like it." He took in Marcus, hunched over a desk looking intently through a thick folder of briefing notes, and waved the bag of beer at him invitingly. "It suits you."

Marcus looked up at him. "Didn't they give you your own room?" He asked, eyes dropping to the beer.

"Yours is nicer," Phil replied, tossing him a bottle and watching Marcus catch it deftly, then depositing the rest on top of the pile of briefings. "Work's over for the night," he informed him.

Marcus gave him a withering look, made even more effective by the eyepatch. "Doesn't that door have a lock on it?"

"A pretty complicated one, yeah," Phil agreed, grinning, and flopped down onto Marcus's bed. He tilted his beer in Marcus's direction. "Cheers," he said. Marcus looked down at his bottle intently, twirling it in his fingers, reading the label. "You put your lips around it," Phil pointed out helpfully, "and suck."

He watched Marcus's mouth curve slowly up into a smile. "You'd know," he said, and Phil just shrugged, grinning at him.

Marcus looked up at him then, eyes catching and holding, and Phil felt the smile fade from his face at the intensity there. He lifted his drink again, and Marcus matched his movements, swallowing long and hard, draining half the bottle at once. "You didn't have to come with me, you know," he said finally, and Phil just raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah," he replied, "I did." He reached out a leg to kick Marcus lightly. "Anyway, did you _see_ what a badass I was out there? I wouldn't have passed that up for the world. And this is what we _do_ now." He couldn't keep the grin from creeping back across his face. "Every day, Marcus." He paused. "Nick?" He offered. It felt wrong and unfamiliar, and Marcus shook his head.

"Not yet." 

Phil nodded. "Got it." He raised an eyebrow. "Agent Fury, though." Marcus's mouth twisted, and Phil told him, "No way you're getting out of that one."

Marcus sighed. "You're just happy not to have people calling you Cheese anymore."

"Better believe it," Phil agreed.

Marcus leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the bed beside Phil. Some of the tension was slowly draining from his face, and he looked almost wistful as he pointed his bottle at Phil and said, "Think any of the guys would have believed it? You and me, secret agents."

"You, maybe," Phil said. "I make a pretty good living off making people underestimate me."

"That you do," Marcus agreed. This time when he smiled, it turned into a real laugh. "Remember that time you had the whole team convinced you were a virgin?"

Phil grinned. "That one was just too easy," he said. "We made good money off that pool, too, if I remember right. Who was it that supposedly deflowered me, in the end? That waitress in Prague?"

"No, that was one of the times you got strategically interrupted. It was Mumbai, that doctor there, remember?"

Phil breathed out a laugh and tipped his head back against the wall. "Of course it was. Damn, that was a good night. I couldn't believe we kept it going for that long."

"You were a little too good at it," Marcus said, his eyes crinkling up as he remembered. "Remember when they started buying you lapdances, just to see you blush?"

"Oh, do I," Phil replied. He shifted back against the wall, stretching his legs out, and reached for another beer to busy his hands, keep himself from getting hard at just the memory of those girls, dancing up against him, riding him through his pants, while Marcus looked on and laughed, meeting his eyes over their shoulders. "And you, being worse than any of them about it. 'Jerking it on your Captain America bedsheets doesn't count, Cheese,'" he mimicked, and kicked Marcus harder that time. "'Just because he died a virgin doesn't mean you have to.' I don't know why I'm still friends with you."

"Because I get you gigs like this," Marcus offered, gesturing with his bottle to the SHIELD complex around them, and Phil couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement at the reminder.

"You might have a point," he conceded.

"Hey, you'll get your chance now," Marcus pointed out, raising his eyebrows suggestively at Phil.

"Chance for what?" Phil asked, suspicious.

"To find out if Cap really was a virgin when he went into the ice." Marcus looked impossibly smug while Phil choked on his beer and had to cough a couple of times to clear his throat. "You could even offer to give him a hand with that."

Phil gave him a skeptical look. "Guy was recovered forever ago, Johnson, and he's been working with Tony Stark in the meantime. I'm pretty sure someone's already given him a hand with that, if it was ever even a problem." He couldn't deny that the thought was intoxicating, though – getting the Captain spread out on one of these painfully uncomfortable base beds and going to his knees for him, learning what he sounded like when he was holding himself back, feeling the tension of super strength through his fingers. Phil breathed out slowly, and when he met Marcus's eyes, there was a small knowing smile there.

"You signed your papers, right?" Marcus asked, and it was such an unexpected question, in such an unfamiliarly intent tone, that Phil took a long moment before answering.

"The ones for SHIELD?" he asked. "The contracts?"

Marcus nodded, waiting, and when Phil slowly returned the nod, he stood, stretching and taking a step towards the bed. "C'mere, then, soldier," he said, and Phil was moving before his mind could quite catch up, on his feet and stepping into Marcus's space, letting the realization snap into place that neither of them were Rangers anymore, that some things had changed, and others were exactly the same as they'd been all those years ago with his eyes catching Marcus's and holding as he'd sit there in a dark smoky bar with a beer in his hand, trying to keep himself from coming at the pressure of someone grinding against his cock. Marcus let his eyes drop down Phil's body, slow and calculating, and when they drifted back up to his face, Phil gave him the smallest nod, barely any movement at all, and closed his eyes.

He felt a rush of breath as Marcus let it out, and then his fingers pressing to Phil through his pants, not hesitant but slow, teasing almost, drawing out the touches until Phil wanted to push forward to get more, to feel Marcus's skin against his own. He held still, though, controlling his breaths, hands curling into fists at his side, and he heard Marcus give a low noise of approval before he reached for Phil's zipper, pulling it down and reaching inside smoothly, getting a warm hand around him. Phil let his hips tilt up experimentally, and Marcus paused, staying there with his fingers resting just lightly against the tip of Phil's cock until he eased himself back from the edge, his breathing steadying out. Only then did he start moving again, with maddening slowness, and Phil was trying to make a list of all the things he'd do to him in retribution, except he couldn't keep any of his thoughts straight with the feeling of Marcus standing so close and solid in front of him, his hand around him, coaxing him so slowly towards the edge, and so he stopped thinking at all and let his forehead drop forward to Marcus's shoulder, letting out a low noise of desperation. He felt rather than heard Marcus's reply in the increased pace of his hand, and he let himself go, fucking up into the tight grip and coming in seconds, Marcus's other hand coming up to press against his back, bracing him there.

He opened his eyes only when Marcus pulled his hand from his pants, blinking against the harsh overhead lights, and Marcus was still there in his space, watching him intently, his fingers tightening just slightly into the fabric of Phil's shirt.

" _Fuck_ ," Phil breathed, and Marcus's carefully blank expression faded into something a little too close to pleased with himself, so Phil took the opportunity to spin them around and get Marcus's leg out from under him so they both went tumbling onto the bed.

"Motherfucker," Marcus grumbled, "who taught you to do that?"

Phil grinned down at him. "The best," he replied, and didn't wait for a reply before he was ducking down, pressing a hand and then his mouth to Marcus's cock through his pants. Marcus kept his eyes on Phil, watching, and Phil made a show of undoing his pants, pulling him out, and ducking his head to suck lightly at him, meeting Marcus's gaze as he did. He curled his tongue around the head, brief and skilled, and then pulled back to use his hand until Marcus said, " _Coulson_ ," low and warningly.

He let Marcus see his smile for just a moment before curling over and sucking him down in earnest, feeling the stretch against his lips, the fullness sliding towards his throat. It had been too long since he'd done this, and it had never before been with the feeling of Marcus's hands cupping his head, bracing him, his hips pushing upwards, trusting Phil to let him know if it got to be too much. He took it, loving the secure touch of Marcus's fingers, the hot slide of his cock into Phil's mouth, and when Marcus tapped at his neck and said something indistinct, Phil just opened up and swallowed around him.

His mouth felt wrecked when he pulled back, and he rubbed at his jaw, grinning as Marcus tucked himself back into his pants. "Not going to ask who taught me to do _that_?" he asked.

"My guess was the doctor in Mumbai," Marcus shot back, rolling out from under Phil and reaching for the last two bottles. He cracked them open against the edge of the desk and handed one off, watching as Phil rocked back onto his heels and swallowed, relishing the feel of something cool pouring down his throat. 

"You're going to have to stop doing that," Phil told him as he lowered the bottle, and Marcus raised his eyebrows.

"What's that?"

"Watching me."

Marcus shrugged. "I've been watching you for most of my professional life, Cheese. I'm not about to stop now." He nudged Phil's leg with his own. "Anyway, I’m not the one who implanted a tracking device in someone's tags. Your moral high ground is about six feet under."

Phil considered that. "True," he conceded. "But you're damn glad of that fact."

"I am," Marcus agreed. "And apparently so is SHIELD." He let his head drop to the side, looking at the stack of briefings on his desk. Phil followed his line of sight, and when Marcus glanced back at him Phil let his mouth twist into the faintest hint of a smile. "Work's over for the night, huh?" Marcus asked.

"Maybe not entirely," Phil offered, and Marcus reached for the pile, pulling it onto the bed. He waved a file at Phil, and Phil darted out a hand to take it from him. He leaned back against the wall and tucked his knees up, propping the folder on his legs and cracking it open, settling in to read it with Marcus stretched out beside him.


End file.
